Ok, publishing round 2, post editing. Still gonna be super slow. :/

Also this chapter is literally unchanged lol.

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(Frank)

I switched off the TV with the little remote, sighing as I stood to brush my teeth. Tomorrow I had the day off, so I could theoretically stay up late, but Ray wanted to meet up in the morning, and he really enjoyed waking up at three fucking a.m.

Just as I spit the white foamy liquid from my mouth and into the sink, I heard a muffled crashing sound, like when a raccoon dives into your garbage bin in search of food. My trashcan was in the front, though, and the sound came from the back left corner of the house, where I was.

I pulled back the curtain warily as I looked out to the dark, damp driveway. Nothing.

I sighed in relief, dismissing it as my imagination. 

Until I remembered the basement windows.

But that was fine, they were always shut and locked. They were strong, too. Ray had bought a skateboard one time, and tripped on it in the driveway. It shot across the pavement, straight into the ground-level window, and bounced right off.

Totally fine.

Unless they happened to be open, for some reason. But they weren't, I was just being paranoid, and I was not going to check, because that was stupid, and it was all fine.

I had almost convinced myself, before I glanced at my phone to read the text Ray had just sent me.

Maybe you should shut the windows downstairs, it says it's gonna rain even more, and your guitar might get wet.

I had just painted my guitar. The windows were open. Shit.

I glanced out the window again to see that Ray was right, the storm was picking up significantly. The thought of being without power right now did not help my anxiety.

Deciding I had no other choice, I finally psyched myself up to go down there and close the windows. Seriously, this was getting bad, and I would never forgive myself if my precious baby was damaged.

I opened the door to the basement, and took the first few steps, until I reached the light switch on the wall. With a deep breath, I prepared myself to see a room full of eviscerated bodies or something, I flipped it.

Nothing happened.

I turned around, to see that all the lights had gone out upstairs.

Ray and his fucking predictions.

I swear his hair gives him superpowers.

I let out a long sigh as I stared down the blackness at the bottom of my stairs. It seemed to glare back, challenging me to venture into it's depths. Well, I wasn't a bitch, I could do this.

I cautiously lowered my foot to the next step. As it touched down, I felt a ridiculously strong sense of relief at the fact that it was still attached. I continued in that way until, at last, I reached the bottom.

I could see the open window a few feet away, letting in a rectangle of light. It was just big enough for a relatively small adult to fit through, someone even bigger than me. It looked like there was liquid on the sill, but it was raining pretty hard, so of course there was.

I looked in the light of the street lamps outside for my guitar, hoping no water got on her. When my eyes caught on a stack of toppled paint cans, my stomach dropped. Ray and I probably knocked them down, right?

Yeah.

I swallowed hard, noticing a flashlight on the table, discarded beside my guitar.

Please have batteries, I prayed as I picked it up and clicked it on.

When the bright beam of light didn't light up a murdered lurking in my basement for my blood, I relaxed slightly. I swept the beam from side to side. Seeing nothing, I was at last legitimately convinced that nothing was wrong. I turned away to shut the window, tracing the light over my guitar to ensure it was fine. 

Without the sound of the rain outside, something else reached my ears. Something that sounded suspiciously like breathing.

In horror, I turned around and cast my flashlight around. The shelf. Of course. 

I slowly crept towards it, holding my light back a bit, prepared to swing it forwards hard. I looked at the ground, to prevent myself from focusing on the object of my growing terror. What I saw in no way helped.

Blood.

It was spread across the concrete in a pattern of smears and drips, a small pool near the shelf. Whatever it came from was on the other side.

I steeled my nerves, and turned the corner.

I did not expect this sight.

What I was met with was a skinny figure, dressed in black and curled in on themselves. Their equally dark hair was cast over them, hiding their face. A decently sized pool of crimson was growing around them, definitely not a good sign.

"Oh my god," I breathed.

The person's head shot up, revealing a scraped up face, a black eye, and tear tracks. Their thin frame shook with a stifled sob, and their hazel eyes met mine.

"Please save me," they begged, before their eyes rolled up into their head, and the slumped over their knees once more.

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Okay hi!

So, I'm re-publishing this bc I want to actually get stuff done with it and yeah. It's been a while since I worked on this, and it will turn out way shorter than I planned before, but don't worry that's still like 20 chapters at least.

And, of course, there will be more books to come.

Anyway, hope you are doing ok, if not, feel free to rant.

Love you, have a good day!

- Brightside